


I Know You

by Rehearsal_Dweller



Series: The Do-Over [1]
Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:00:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28183569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rehearsal_Dweller/pseuds/Rehearsal_Dweller
Summary: Jack doesn't know who the boy is, but he's been drawing him all his life.He doesn't know who the girl is, either, but people never seem to ask about her.
Relationships: David Jacobs/Jack Kelly/Katherine Plumber, Spot Conlon & Jack Kelly
Series: The Do-Over [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2077896
Comments: 61
Kudos: 78





	1. (i walked with you once upon a dream)

**Author's Note:**

> Surprise!  
> This concept hit me like a ton of bricks the other day, like, fifteen minutes before I had to leave the house. I hope you all like it is much as I do!
> 
> ...
> 
> also, I feel obligated to tell you all this is my 200th fic on ao3, which I very nearly forgot to celebrate. Whoops.

Jack isn’t sure who the boy is.

People ask him all the time, but there’s no good answer. He just _doesn’t know_.

(He doesn’t know who the girl is, either, but for some reason people don’t seem to _notice_ the girl. Or, at least, to notice that she – like the boy – is out of place.)

They’re sort of like ghosts, to Jack. They find their way into his art, tucked in amongst groups, among his friends, without him even really thinking about it. Sometimes they’re in his dreams, and on those nights he wakes up with their names on the tip of his tongue and then –

They’re gone.

He’s pretty sure, in a way that’s hard to articulate and even harder to justify, that he loves them. Or maybe that he _did_ love them, a long time ago.

The boy is tall. Jack often finds that he’s placed him next to Race in drawings and paintings, and they’re nearly of a height with each other. Jack would hazard that Race is a little bit shorter, which would make the boy something like six feet tall. When Jack works in color and not just graphite, the boy is pale and faintly freckled, with dark, dark curls and clear blue eyes that stand off of the page.

The girl, usually near the boy though not always next to him directly, is much smaller. When she _is_ next to the boy, her head comes just above his shoulders, the top of her head not quite reaching his chin. She has a dusting of freckles across her face that Jack is always sure aren’t quite enough, no matter how many he draws. In color, she has vibrant red hair, always perfectly styled, and her clothes are always bright and colorful.

He has a whole sketchbook filled with just the two of them – not that Jack ever shows that one to anybody. They feel like missing pieces, he told his mother once.

They feel like he should know them, he told his brother.

They feel like _home_ , he tells no one, because even though he’s sure it’s true he’s not really sure what he means by it.

(When he dreams about them, there’s something oddly familiar about the whole thing, almost like they’re memories. But everything is _different_ in the dreams – the way they dress, the way they talk, what they do with their lives. And yet all of that feels familiar, too.)

“Maybe you knew them in a past life or something,” Race says, frowning intently at the boy in one of Jack’s paintings. It’s late, very late, and Race is well past tipsy on his way to drunk. “Why’s’e always next to _me_ , Jack?”

“I dunno,” Jack admits, shrugging. “It’s just where he wants to be. Maybe you knew him, too.”

“Maybe,” Race says a little distantly. He blinks hard a few times. “Weird.”

“What?”

“I just – he’s familiar. I can’t place it.”

“Now you know how _I_ feel, Racer.”

“Do you think they’re out there, somewhere?” Race asks softly.

Jack runs his fingers through his hair. “I hope so.”

\--

Jack’s phone rings. He’s so startled by it that he almost ruins the sketch he’s working on, because nobody ever calls him.

It’s Spot, though, so he answers.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Jack,” Spot says, sounding ever so slightly shaken. Given that Spot is a goddamn rock, this is telling. “Is there any chance you’re free right now to come down to the store?”

Jack closes his sketchbook, setting it aside and reaching for his shoes. “Yeah, I am. Is something wrong? Aren’t you supposed to be on shift right now?”

“I was,” says Spot. “I am. Fire alarm in the building, everybody’s outside and – just get down here now, okay?”

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, I just – Jack. Trust me?”

“Okay,” says Jack, perplexed, “I’m on my way.”

He makes it to the block the art supply shop Spot works at is on in record time, and when he gets there people are still milling around outside, firetrucks still parked on the street.

“Spot?” he calls, flagging down his brother.

Spot walks over – Spot never runs – and grabs Jack by the wrist, dragging him back to where some of the other art store people are standing in a little group. “Look over there,” he says quietly, nodding toward another little knot of people.

Jack’s about to ask why this could possibly have been important enough to drag him out of their nice, warm apartment and into the biting chill of a November morning when he sees her.

He sees _her_.

“Holy shit,” says Jack.

She’s about Spot’s height, somewhere in the low-mid five foot range, with coppery red hair pulled into a ponytail that swishes while she talks with too much animation to be still. She has freckles visible even at this distance, distinct and beautiful against flushed pale skin. She has a hoodie thrown a little haphazardly over a deep magenta dress.

There’s no mistaking her; Jack’s seen her in his dreams and in his art a thousand times.

“That’s what I said,” says Spot. “I think she’s from the bookstore next door, she’s talking to JoJo. You know JoJo, right?”

“Yeah,” says Jack, his throat dry. “Should I – shit, Spot, should I go _say_ something?”

“What?” Spot asks, raising an eyebrow. “My brother recognized you from my paintings, I’ve been drawing you all my life, hi I’m Jack who are you?”

“I – I don’t know,” Jack replies, because, yeah, that sounds a little crazy.

He’s spared actually making the decision, because the girl chooses that moment to look their way and when her eyes meet Jack’s they go wide.

She says something to JoJo, then starts walking toward Jack.

“Hi,” she says when she reaches him. “This might be weird, but you look super familiar, do I know you?”

“Not exactly,” Jack replies. “But I’d like to.”

She smiles, and Jack’s chest aches with how familiar it feels. “I’m Katherine.”

_Katherine._

He can hear it in his own voice, maybe a little younger, called joyfully down the street to get her attention.

He can hear _Kathy_ in Race’s affectionate tones.

Can hear _Kitty!_ in a voice that sounds like a teenaged Charlie.

Can hear _Kate_ in a voice he’s never heard before except he knows as well as his own, a voice that must belong to _him_.

Katherine.

“Holy shit,” Jack blurts. “Of course you’re Katherine.”

Because now that he knows it, it’s impossible to imagine that he ever couldn’t remember.

 _Katherine, Katherine, Katherine_.

He’s pretty sure she was the love of his life.

Well –

One of them.

Katherine laughs. “Oh, of course?”

“I’m Jack,” Jack says.

Katherine’s laugh dies and her mouth snaps shut. She blinks, looking a little stunned. Jack has a gut feeling that she’s having the same odd rush of memory he just did.

“Oh,” says Katherine, “of course you’re Jack.”

It occurs to Jack that he hasn’t even shaken this girl’s hand yet, but he kind of wants to hug her.

“Can I hug you or would that be weird?” Katherine says, like she’s read his mind.

“Please.”

Jack honestly might be crying.

Katherine’s arms are around his waist and his are around her shoulders and she’s got her face nestled into his neck and it feels so, _so_ right and Jack’s not sure –

He met this girl two minutes ago, except –

_Here’s a headline for you: cheeky boy gets nothing for his troubles._

\- except he met this girl a hundred and twenty years ago, on a sunny morning while they both walked to work.

Jack hugs Katherine a little tighter.

“I can’t believe you’re really here,” Katherine says, just a breath. “I can’t believe you’re _real_.”

“I know,” says Jack. He pulls back just enough to cup her cheek with his hand, sweeping a tear away. “I know. I’m here, Katie.”

“Oh,” Katherine says, with a little hiccupping laugh. “Nobody’s called me that in a hundred years.”

“Is that okay?”

“It’s okay.”

“Hey! Kath! They’re letting us back in!” JoJo’s voice calls, breaking through the little bubble Jack and Katherine seem to have found themselves in.

They separate, but Katherine grabs Jack’s hand. “I need your phone number.”

Jack nods, digging a little scrap of paper out of his jacket pocket and scrawling his number as legibly as possible.

Katherine seems reluctant to let go of Jack, now that they’ve found each other, but with his phone number in hand she finally does.

“So, uh, what the _fuck_ did I just witness?” Spot’s coworker says. Spot shoves him aside, coming over to stand next to his brother.

Jack shakes his head. “I – Spot. Spot, it’s her.”

“Yeah,” says Spot. “It’s her. Did you figure it out?”

“I knew her,” Jack says. “A long time ago. A lifetime ago. I knew her.”

“Like Race thought?” Spot asks, raising an eyebrow.

Jack nods silently.

“Holy shit,” says Spot, casual as anything.

“Yeah,” says Jack. He feels –

He feels kind of like his entire world has been tipped on its side, but at the same time he feels like something he’d been missing has clicked right back into place.

“I’m going to go home,” Jack says. “Have – have a good rest’a your shift, ‘kay?”

“You okay?” Spot asks.

Jack nods, not because it’s true but because he wants to go home and have a breakdown about this in private.

“Okay,” says Spot. “Well, if you decide you wanna talk about it, call Charlie or Racer, ‘cause I can’t handle any more of this shit today than I’ve already seen.”

Jack laughs. “Count on you for support, got it.”

“Fuck off,” Spot says, but it’s as close to affectionate as Spot ever is.

Jack means to draw when he gets home, but he just finds himself flipping through his sketchbook.

 _Katherine_.

Now that he knows her name, the rest is flooding back.

A married life, at least what seems to be one, threaded in and out with _him_ , too.

Sitting in the park with the boys, with her by his side writing frantic notes for an article in her notepad.

Evening dates together, with her hand tucked into the bend of his elbow.

The strike, the greatest success of Jack’s first life.

Standing in an office, feeling his heart fall through the floor while her father taunts him with her identity and threats to –

Threats to –

Jack groans, frustrated. For just a moment, the boy’s name was right there at the tip of his tongue.

He’ll have to ask Katherine.

Maybe she remembers him, too.

\--

The first time Katherine is over at Jack and Spot’s apartment, curled up next to Jack on the couch like she’s always been there, Jack shows her The Sketchbook.

“This is me,” she says, stunned.

“I’ve been drawing you as long as I’ve been drawing,” Jack admits. “Do you know the boy?”

“I – I do,” Katherine says. She shakes her head. “It’s like the feeling I had when I first saw you, Jack. I just – I can feel it in my chest that I _should_ know him, but I can’t quite place it. Is he from the other life, too?”

Jack nods. “I was hoping you’d recognize him. It’s been driving me crazy to have a name for one of you and still not know the other.”

Katherine kisses his cheek. “Well, you and I found each other again. I’m sure he’s out there somewhere.”

“I hope so,” says Jack. “I really like you, Kath, but it still just feels like somethin’s –“

“Missing,” Katherine finishes. “Yeah. I know how you feel.”

\--

Jack’s phone is ringing, which is super annoying because he’s actually gone to bed at a reasonable hour for fucking _once_ and now he’s awake again, but it’s Katherine and Jack can’t not answer Katherine.

“Hey, Katydid,” he says sleepily. “S’somethin’ wrong?”

“David,” she says. “His name is David.”

Jack sits bolt upright, suddenly very, very awake. “David?”

“David,” Katherine confirms. “ _Davey_ , Jack.”

“You’re sure?” Jack asks, even though he knows instinctively that she’s right. It’s clicked into place with the same level of certainty as her own name had.

“Jack, he’s in my house right now,” says Katherine. “He’s my roommate’s brother, and I – oh, Jack, I swear, I had to leave the room when he and Sarah got home from the airport, I thought I was going to cry.”

“I’m coming over,” Jack says, “is it alright if I come over?”

“Please,” says Katherine.

Jack shoves his sockless feet into shoes, not caring that he’s going out at midnight in his pajamas. He throws a jacket on, too, since it’s fucking freezing, and only stops to think long enough to grab his sketchbook.

He gets to Katherine’s place in record time.

She lets him in quietly, the two of them pausing in the front hallway to chat.

“They’re in the kitchen having, like, hot chocolate or something,” Katherine says. “I don’t want to be weird and, like, up in their space, especially since they’re _twins_ and they, like, never get to see each other in person anymore, but I just – I needed you here.”

“Yeah,” says Jack. He kicks his shoes off, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I know, darlin’.”

“You have to see him, Jack,” she says. “He’s – he’s just like I remember.”

The two of them creep down the hall, trying not to make too much noise and disrupt the twins mid conversation, although that plan falls through the instant Jack hears his voice.

“- Just think about it, Sarah.”

Jack’s throat closes, tears prickling at his eyes.

_Jackie, think about it!_

He sounds so much like Jack remembers that his chest _aches_ with the thought of it. With how close they are to each other for the first time in a hundred and twenty years.

“Davey,” he blurts, full voiced. Oh, _oh_ , that voice. Jack knows that voice.

Katherine swats his arm, looking slightly put out but also just a little bit teary herself.

“Jack?” says Davey, startled.

Jack’s feet are rooted to the floor, but Katherine drags him onward, into the kitchen.

Sarah and Davey are standing side-by-side, leaning against the counter, both watching the door.

“Katherine,” Davey says, his eyes landing on her. They flick over to Jack, next. “Oh.”

“Oh,” Jack and Katherine agree in near-unison.

“My roommate is _your Katherine_?” Sarah says, somewhere in the distance. Jack is pretty sure the entire world is closing in on just him and Katherine and Davey.

Davey, Davey, Davey.

How the _fuck_ could he forget Davey?

Davey nods.

“You knew our names,” Katherine says, barely over a whisper.

Davey nods again.

“I drew you,” Jack admits. “A thousand times.”

“Of course you did,” says Davey.

Katherine opens her arms, and Davey crosses the room in three steps to sweep her into a tight hug. At this distance, Jack can hear them both breathing in shaky sobs.

Davey looks over Katherine’s shoulder at Jack. “What are you waiting for, Jackie?”

That, apparently.

Jack lets himself get tugged into the hug, Katherine still more or less between him and Davey and it feels so, _so_ familiar.

“I missed you,” Katherine says. “I’ve missed you both all my life.”

“I missed you, too,” says Davey. He rests his forehead against Jack’s, over Katherine’s shoulder.

“This isn’t some weird dream, right?” says Jack, just a breath. Barely loud enough for Kath and Davey to hear, but they hear him.

“It’s real,” Davey says. “It’s amazing and it’s impossible, but it’s – oh, Jackie. It’s real."


	2. (the gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam)

Katherine had never given much thought to the two boys that always seemed to feature in her dreams before she met Jack.

No, no, that’s not true.

That’s not true at all.

Katherine was never _allowed_ to give much thought to the two boys that always seemed to feature in her dreams, growing up.

She told her mother about it once, about these dreams that felt so _real_ , where she was older and these boys – the tall one with the curly hair and the shorter one with the broad shoulders – seemed to love her so much.

“Two boys?” her mother had said, frowning. “That’s quite unseemly, Katherine. Don’t talk about it again.”

So she didn’t.

She’d almost convinced herself to forget about it until the day the fire alarm in the building where she works goes off and half an hour later she’s standing outside on the street in a sweatshirt a coworker lent her and she sees him.

It’s hard to put her finger on why she’s so sure it’s one of her boys. Her impression of their physical appearances has always been vague, or at least fading to vagueness once she awoke right along with their names, but there’s something about the way he’s holding himself that just feels _right_. She’s always had a better memory for the way they carry themselves, the _way_ they talk but not the sound of their voices.

Which is why, despite modern clothes and a neater haircut, she is struck with unshakeable certainty that this is one of her boys. The one with the broad shoulders and the cocky smile that always faded into something soft and genuine for her and the other boy.

_(Huh_. She’d never really noticed that the dreams weren’t modern until just now.)

He’s already staring at her when she looks over, standing next to a shorter man who Katherine also almost but not quite recognizes.

“I have to go,” Katherine says to JoJo, mid-conversation.

“What? _Where?”_ JoJo replies, perplexed, but Katherine is already gone.

“Hi,” she says, before realizing that she walked over here without a plan. “This might be super weird, but you look super familiar. Do I know you?”

“Not exactly,” the man says, which isn’t a no if Katherine’s right about where she’s seen his face. “But I’d like to.”

“I’m Katherine,” she says, smiling.

He stares at her, eyes wide.

Katherine isn’t sure he’s breathing.

“Holy shit,” he says, “of course you’re Katherine.”

Which is a very, very strange thing to say, but it makes Katherine’s heart flutter in a fond, familiar way.

“Oh,” Katherine replies, laughing, “of course?”

“I’m Jack,” is all he says in reply and _oh._

Oh.

She gets it now.

Because suddenly – suddenly the very idea that two minutes ago she didn’t know his name seems unbelievable.

A thousand memories fall into place, memories of Jack and of _him_ and a whole herd of other boys, memories of the strike and of Jack’s voice softly saying her name, of _his_ fingers gently running through her hair.

She stares at Jack, wide-eyed and breathless.

“Oh,” she says, “of _course_ you’re Jack.”

She’s struck by this urge to hug him, even though they’ve just met, because they haven’t just met, they’ve just _found each other_.

“Can I hug you or would that be weird?”

“Please,” says Jack.

She falls into his arms, her face pressed into his neck, and it feels like coming home.

He even _smells_ the same, which is a stupid thing to think but she does anyway because oh, he really does.

It’s not until she takes a shaking, gasping breath that she realizes she’s crying.

She thinks Jack is, too.

It’s been so long since the last time she held him, she finds herself thinking. It’s been so fucking long.

She’s missed him.

“I can’t believe you’re really here,” she whispers. “I can’t believe you’re _real_.”

Jack leans back, his hand coming to her cheek. He brushes a tear away with his thumb, and Katherine wants to lean into his touch and never let go. “I know, I know. I’m here, Katie.”

_Katie_.

All at once, she feels an echo of a thousand different times Jack called her that. A thousand times _he_ called her that, too.

It was their name for her, theirs and no one else’s.

Nobody in her current life calls her that, either. She’s never let anyone use it.

Now she knows why, because it was never going to sound right in any voice but one of theirs.

“Oh,” Katherine says, laughing shakily. “Nobody’s called me that in a hundred years.”

\--

Katherine falls into place with Jack more easily than she could ever have imagined she would. The more time she spends with him, the more she remembers from their first time around.

The more sure she is that this is their second chance at a life together.

If only they could find –

“I miss him,” Katherine says one night, looking up abruptly from her book across the couch at Jack.

Jack tucks his pencil into his sketchbook. “I know, babe. I do, too.” He nudges her with his toe. “What makes you say so?”

“He’d love this book,” Katherine says.

“How do you know?”

Katherine frowns. “It’s hard to explain. Like, you remembered what we look like, down to my freckles and the color of his eyes, right?”

Jack nods.

“I couldn’t ever quite keep a solid image of you in my head,” says Katherine, “but I’ve always remembered _who_ you were. What you were like, I mean. The way you move and smile and talk.” She taps her fingertips against the cover of her book. “And I was reading this and I just – he was always so reserved except when you could really get him going, and I _know_ this stupid book would get him going.”

Jack laughs. “Well, when we find him, you can make him read it.”

“Maybe he already will have,” says Katherine. “And you can egg him into a rant about it.”

“Oh, _I_ can?” says Jack, his tone teasing.

“You had a knack for it,” Katherine tells him. She smiles fondly, thinking not just of Jack but of _him,_ their mystery third puzzle piece. She sighs, a wistful ache in her chest. “I miss him.”

“I know,” Jack says again. He sets his sketchbook aside and lifts her book out of her hands, carefully marking her page with the front flap before setting it on the table, too. He kisses her forehead, right between her eyebrows.

The familiarity of the gesture makes Katherine’s breath catch. Jack’s never done that before, not in this life, but it was both of her boys’ go-to gesture of affection in their last one.

“Oh, Jack,” she says softly. “I’m glad to have you back.”

“You, too, Katydid.”

\--

Katherine has lived with Sarah for two and a half years now, but she’s never actually managed to meet any of her family. Mostly that’s because Sarah usually only sees them when she goes home, but the handful of times that they’ve come to visit have always somehow coincided with Katherine being out of town or busy.

Not this time.

Katherine’s in the living room when Sarah and her brother get home, and she looks up from her laptop as they enter the room.

“Kath! This is my brother, David,” Sarah says.

David gives Katherine this little shoulder height wave, then tucks his hand back into his pocket.

Katherine feels like she’s either going to cry or throw up or both, so she just sort of nods and waves back and then makes a quick escape to call Jack.

David.

_David._

_Davey,_ she hears in Jack’s young voice. _This is my partner, Davey._

Jack answers on the third ring, sounding tired. “Hey, Katydid, s’somethin’ wrong?”

“David,” she says, just a hoarse, desperate whisper. She knows Jack will know who she’s talking about. “His name is David.”

“David?” Jack repeats, suddenly sounding much more awake.

“David,” Katherine says again. “ _Davey,_ Jack.”

“You’re sure?”

“Jack, he’s in my house right now,” says Katherine. “He’s my roommate’s brother, and I – oh, Jack, I swear, I had to leave the room when he and Sarah got home from the airport, I thought I was going to cry.”

“I’m coming over,” Jack says, “is it alright if I come over?”

There’s nothing in the world Katherine wants more. “Please.”

Katherine waits for Jack’s _I’m here_ text by the front door, and as she’s waiting Sarah and Davey migrate from the living room to the kitchen.

She’s trying not to fall to pieces, because this isn’t like Jack – she _knows_ now. She knows exactly who Davey was to her, knows where he fit into her life, and she’s honestly a little bit terrified that –

That he won’t know them.

Jack pulls her into a tight hug when he walks through the door, and after he lets go she says, “They’re in the kitchen having, like, hot chocolate or something. I don’t want to be weird and, like, up in their space, especially since they’re _twins_ and they, like, never get to see each other in person anymore, but I just – I needed you here.”

“Yeah,” says Jack. He kicks his shoes off before leaning over to kiss her temple. “I know, darlin’.”

“You have to see him, Jack,” she says. “He’s – he’s just like I remember.”

She leads Jack down the hall, toward the kitchen. They’re trying to be quiet, not too disruptive of the twins’ conversation, only then they hear Davey’s voice, loud and clear, and Jack says –

“Davey,” like he can’t stop himself.

Katherine swats his arm, because _hello, stealth?_ but at the same time she can’t really blame him. Jack looks like he’s got the beginnings of tears in his eyes, and Katherine knows she’s the same.

And then Davey’s voice calls back.

“Jack?”

Jack freezes up, but Katherine drags him into the kitchen.

“Katherine,” Davey says as soon as he sees her, then he looks over at Jack. “Oh.”

“Oh,” Katherine and Jack agree.

Sarah says something like, “My roommate is _your Katherine_?”

Which makes something click into place for Katherine.

She and Jack both have their own things that have lingered from their first life, Jack’s images and her impressions, but Davey –

“You knew our names,” Katherine breathes.

Davey nods. He’s got this sad, almost worried expression on his face, a faint crease forming between his eyebrows.

It’s so familiar to Katherine that it _hurts_.

“I drew you a thousand times,” Jack confesses.

“Of course you did,” Davey says fondly, and Katherine can see tears in his eyes.

She opens her ams and Davey practically _dives_ for her, sweeping her into a tight hug with one arm around her waist and the other hand coming to cup the back of her head. The sensation of being held, not just held but held _like this,_ held _by Davey_ , pushes her over the edge and she starts to sob into Davey’s shoulder.

He’s crying too, his breaths coming just as shaky as hers.

Davey picks his head up, looking over her shoulder at Jack. “What are you waiting for, Jackie?”

That’s all it takes to complete the sandwich; Jack comes over and wraps his arms around the both of them with Katherine in the middle, and Davey’s uncoil from around Katherine to pull Jack in closer.

It’s the first time they’ve hugged like this.

They’ve hugged like this a thousand times.

“I missed you,” Katherine says quietly, into Davey’s shirt. “I’ve missed you both all my life.”

“I missed you, too,” Davey says.

“This isn’t just some weird dream, right?” Jack mumbles. Katherine barely catches it.

“It’s real,” Davey assures him. “It’s amazing and it’s impossible, but it’s – oh, Jackie. It’s real.”

They stand like that for what is probably an embarrassingly long time, Katherine isn’t really sure.

When they finally pull away from each other, Katherine wipes at her eyes. “I’m sorry, Davey, we didn’t mean to steal you away from your sister.”

“Oh, no,” says Sarah. “Don’t mind me, I’ve seen him a lot more recently than either of you.” She walks over and kisses her brother on the cheek. “Is it okay if I call Mama and tell her for you?”

“Yeah,” says Davey, a little distantly. “Go ahead.”

Jack takes both Katherine and Davey by the hand and leads them through into the living room, and they flop onto the couch together.

“I can’t believe you knew our names,” Jack says. “Katie and I could never remember them.”

“You remembered our faces, though?” Davey says.

Jack nods silently, handing him his sketchbook, which he’s been holding with a death grip until now.

Davey flips through it, through pages and pages of himself and Katherine, and he laughs.

“Oh, Jack.”

“Yeah, I know,” says Jack.

“Is anyone else back, do you think?” Davey asks. He nods toward the other room. “Besides my siblings and us, I mean?”

“Sarah’s –“ Katherine takes a sharp breath in, cutting herself off. Oh, _oh_. She remembers Sarah now, too. It’s not the same heavy, aching familiarity as Davey and Jack, but a soft, hazy memory of Sarah’s laugh and the way she’d always sit on tables (but only where her mother couldn’t see her). “Oh.”

Davey smiles fondly. “Yeah. I’ve always been able to talk about our first life with her, but it’s – it’s _different_ to see you two in person. I’ve never really been able to remember what you guys looked like, but I’ve always known your voices. Your names. We’ve been looking for you.”

“I’ve been looking for you, too,” says Jack.

Katherine shakes her head. “My mother – I wasn’t allowed to talk about it. I sort of thought I’d made it all up until I saw Jack for the first time.”

Davey leans over and presses a soft kiss to her forehead. “We’re real, Katie-mine. We found you.”

Katherine smiles. “You found me.”

“A lot of the guys are back,” Jack says after a moment, leaning back. “The longer I’ve known Kathy, the more I’ve remembered them, too. Spot Conlon and Crutchie – Charlie, now – and I are siblings this time. Like, blood-related siblings. Race was our next door neighbor growing up.”

“Wait, really?” says Davey.

“Yeah, Jack got his whole crew and you got your siblings and I was all alone,” Katherine says, and she’s not actually bitter about it but both Jack and Davey take it as a cue to smush in a little closer on either side of her.

“You’ve got us now,” Jack says softly. He kisses her temple, and at almost the same moment Davey kisses her cheek on the other side.

“You do,” Davey says. “And believe me, I’m not letting the two of you go any time soon.”


	3. (you'll love me at once the way you did once)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for all of the love this story's gotten! It made me so happy to write and I'm so glad to know you all have enjoyed it, too!

David has always known he’d lived another life.

His twin sister Sarah had, too, and all through their childhood he’d woken up to the sound of her voice calling his name only to find that she was still sound asleep or, on a few memorable occasions, completely absent from their bedroom. His memories of their other life are almost all aural; mostly vague impressions of voices, or of other sounds that surrounded him in their first life.

A handful of voices and names come through clearly, though.

There’s Sarah – Sarah, who sounds almost exactly the same this time around, Sarah who hears the voices of their first time around too, Sarah who is right next to him all over again. He’s glad he hears Sarah, because he knows he’s not alone.

There’s Les, the little brother who both he and Sarah heard before he was even born, who they looked at the first time they held him and they _knew_. Les grows up with memories, too, though his, he says, are all physical. (Because of this, Les gives his siblings the best hugs in the world.)

The other two crystal clear voices in David’s life are Jack and Katherine. Jack and Katherine were his two loves, he’s sure of it, and some days he wakes up from dreams where he’s almost sure he can remember their faces, only for them to fade away.

Jack’s voice usually comes in teasing tones or bright, clear shouts, except when he’s saying things like _sorry, Davey_ and _heya Katie_ and _I love you._

Katherine’s voice is softer and kinder, but sometimes comes through in playful tones saying things like _oh is that right_ and _get him, Davey!_ and _I don’t know why I put up with you two._

David loves hearing Jack and Katherine’s voices.

“Do you think they’re back, too?” he asks his sister one night when they’re teenagers.

It’s August, they’re seventeen, and all Davey’s been able to think about is that last time, this is when they met.

“I think so,” Sarah says, leaning against him and putting her head on his shoulder. “I think they must be.”

“I hope you’re right,” says David.

Sarah hums. “You’d think this far into our second lifetime you’d know by now, Davey. I’m _always_ right.”

David’s siblings are the only ones who call him Davey, this time around. They’re the only ones who know why being Davey matters.

“I miss them,” he admits to her that night.

“I know you do, Davey,” Sarah says softly. “We’ll find them, I promise.”

\--

In the end, it _is_ Sarah who finds them, although entirely by accident. She ends up living with Katherine because a mutual friend connects them when they’re both looking for a roommate at the same time, but there are a million Katherines in the world. There was no way of knowing that this girl was _Davey’s_ , and no reason to assume that she might be.

By the time David meets her, she and Sarah have lived together for well over two years.

She’s sitting on her computer in the living room when David and Sarah get to the apartment, and when Sarah introduces David to her he gives a little wave that she returns with a stricken expression. She looks vaguely familiar, but it’s hard to place.

She leaves the room almost immediately, leaving David wondering what he’d done in the thirty seconds he’d been there.

“Do you want some hot chocolate?” Sarah offers. “It’s a little chilly, I bet your fingers are still freezing.”

David nods. “Do you think I did something wrong? She seemed like she couldn’t get out of here fast enough.”

“I’m sure she just remembered she had something to do,” Sarah say soothingly. “Don’t worry about it, okay?”

They talk about nothing and everything, catching up for the first time in a while, while Sarah makes hot chocolate.

They’re midway through a silly argument about a book they’re both reading, when David hears something that makes his heart stop.

“Davey?”

It’s Jack’s voice, coming from Sarah’s front hallway.

Sarah’s roommate comes into the room, dragging a man about their age behind her.

Davey knows why she felt familiar, now.

“Katherine,” he says softly, before looking over at the man who is unmistakably Jack. “Oh.”

“Oh,” Jack and Katherine say. It’s the first time Davey’s heard Katherine’s voice, and it’s achingly familiar.

Sarah smacks Davey’s arm. “My roommate is _your Katherine_?”

Davey nods.

“You knew our names,” Katherine says quietly.

Davey nods again. He’s feeling a little overwhelmed.

“I drew you a thousand times,” says Jack.

“Of course you did,” says Davey. If Jack remembered them any other way he’d have been shocked.

Katherine looks on the verge of tears, and when she opens her arms for Davey he can’t resist the urge to run over and pull her into a hug. One of his hands comes up to cup the back of her head, his fingers threading through her hair. It’s not really a conscious decision, just the instinctive way his body reacted to being this close to hers.

He feels her start to cry, and that’s enough to tip him over the edge, too.

He looks up at Jack. “What are you waiting for, Jackie?”

And then Jack’s on them, his arms sliding around Katherine to hold onto Davey like his life depends on it.

“I missed you,” Katherine says. “I’ve missed you both all my life.”

“I missed you, too,” Davey replies. He shifts just enough to touch his forehead to Jack’s over Katherine’s shoulder.

This feeling is new, and yet –

Davey has never felt more in place in his life than he does right now.

\--

Holding Jack’s sketchbook in his hands for the first time in a hundred years feels almost painfully familiar.

He never _really_ understood what Les meant by physical memories until he’s leafing through Jack’s sketchbook, feeling the cover and the slightly textured pages under his fingers while Katherine leans over his shoulder to look, too.

He sits up way too late with Jack and Katherine that night.

Sarah has long since gone to bed by the time the three of them are willing to stop their catchup conversation, stop learning each other’s new lives inside and out.

“Do you want to –“ Jack starts, then cuts off abruptly. “Never mind, I’m sure it’s – never mind.”

“What?” says Davey.

“It’s too soon.”

“We were together a long time last time, Jackie. What is it?”

Jack runs his fingers through his hair. “I was wondering if you –“

“Do you want to spend the night with us, Davey?” Katherine says, clearly not having time for Jack’s dilly-dallying. 

Davey laughs. “I’d like that a lot, actually.”

Katherine nods firmly. “Good, because I don’t want to let you out of my sight. Jack, is that what you were stumbling through?”

“Yes, Katie,” Jack says, flushing pink. “As a matter of fact it was. You can’t just _say_ that. We’ve known the man four hours.”

“We’ve known Davey for a hundred and twenty years, Jack,” Katherine says softly. “I’m not going to let him go any time soon, and I know you aren’t either. I know we don’t want to just jump in where we left off, but – it’s _Davey_ , Jack.”

“Yeah,” says Jack, meeting Davey’s eye across Katherine. “It’s Davey. I just don’t want to mess this up.”

“You won’t,” says Davey.

He’s feeling more than a little bit choked up, not for the first time tonight. Sure, he’s been waiting and hoping to find these two for most of his life, but to know that they’ve been looking for him, too, is almost too much.

Katherine’s bed is actually bigger than the one the three of them used to share, but they fall into more or less the same positions anyway, clinging to each other in the middle of the bed the way they would on nights when the winter chill would seep into their poorly-insulated apartment.

Katherine is on one side of Davey, curled around him with her head pillowed on his shoulder, while Jack is sort of sprawled half on top of Davey from the other side, his arm and leg both thrown across him and Katherine in an almost protective way.

Davey worries at first that it might be too warm for him to fall asleep under the covers in this tangle of bodies, but he finds that he’s actually never been more comfortable in his entire life.

There’s a lot left to figure out. They need to sort out where the three of them fit into each other’s modern lives, to get to know these new, slightly different versions of themselves.

But all of that can start tomorrow.

For now, Davey is wrapped up in the two people he has spent his entire life waiting for, the two voices that have haunted him since he was a kid.

The ache of loss in his chest has finally, finally eased.

Jack’s hand comes up to awkwardly pat Davey’s cheek. “You’re thinkin’ too much, Davey. Go to sleep.”

Davey makes a quiet, apologetic sound. “Sorry, Jackie.”

“Mm,” says Jack. “Love you.”

Davey smiles, finally starting to drift off into sleep. “Love you, too.”

Katherine makes a little contented noise, mostly asleep already.

There’s still a lot to figure out, but for the first time in a hundred years, Davey is _home._


End file.
